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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29203221">Victor's Rose</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle_est_vivant/pseuds/Elle_est_vivant'>Elle_est_vivant</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cultist Simulator (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, But I fear to admit, F/F, F/M, Maybe I once loved Rose, Therefore may all perish, Villain Protagonist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:15:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,781</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29203221</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle_est_vivant/pseuds/Elle_est_vivant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I am more powerful for I do not love. I use.</p><p>Maybe this is not completely true, maybe I once loved one. Just once, just one.</p><p>But I love pain more than I love love.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rose/Physician, Rose/Victor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Victor's Rose</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaliaXD/gifts">RosaliaXD</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I knew she was the one I needed the moment we met.</p><p> </p><p>I was talking about my odd findings and lores as usual, and most people thought me as a psychopath and did not bother stopping.</p><p> </p><p>Rose walked straight to me. ‘Interesting,’ she said, her eyes bright in the night. ‘Really interesting. I’d like to know more.’</p><p> </p><p>We spoke for a long time. Her short hair was unkempt but beautifully orderly. I searched her eyes as I preached, trying to find the thing I believe was in mine. </p><p> </p><p>We were still in contact after that, but rarely did we talk. I had more business to attend, more lectures to preach, more hunters to abduct, more patients to attend. Rose probably had more people to murder and more dancers to flirt with.</p><p> </p><p>Sometimes I go to Ecdysis too, when inevitable dread and despair become too much to bear. I never saw her there, but I did see, just once, someone with a strong resemblance of her, leaning in a tall man’s arms. I knew the man as Victor, he shared the same intriguing oddness with Rose.</p><p> </p><p>I watched the dancers. Their fleshes were beautiful. I loved the way their fingers slide across their velvety skin, and I imagined my hands clutching on their beautiful bodies, my body against theirs. Although I lack the essential parts, I could imagine us reaching the peak of pleasure together. </p><p> </p><p>Sometimes I paid more to have a dancer serve me more personally. She would sit on my laps and grind slowly, all movements trained and impeccable, it got boring soon. It was another price to have interactions even more intimate, a price too high for my liking. </p><p> </p><p>Also, some places in my heart - and being - were reserved for Rose. She didn’t know that yet.</p><p> </p><p>One day I walked out of the Institute. Rose was out at the gate, and I was surprised. </p><p> </p><p>In the Institute people die, and in Rose’s hand, people also die. But in two different ways. People die in my hands when all hope ever allowed by the Hours above was exhausted, and people die in her hands with abrupt unexpectedness. </p><p> </p><p>The atmosphere around her made her quite queer in this place.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t care. She never cared about these minor things, these blood stained coats, these scarred fingers, and that was one thing I liked about her.</p><p> </p><p>‘Dear physician,’ she raised one eyebrow mischievously, ‘let’s go somewhere.’</p><p> </p><p>I told her about my visions. I told her about my dreams. I asked her, did she believe in my arduous research, did she want to devote herself to the art of ascension like I did. I talked about all my works, all my findings. </p><p> </p><p>All while we were sitting in Ecdysis, champagne on the table and unclothed flesh on the stage. </p><p> </p><p>She found the conversation boring soon, just like I found the dancers. ‘You’re even worse than my brother,’ she scolded with a seductive smile, ‘and I thought he was bad at this.’</p><p> </p><p>‘Oh I can be good. I don’t know if I want to show that side to you, though.’ I pressed one finger on her lips, scarlet lipstick staining my fingertips. ‘Show me you’re worthwhile of having me.’</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t need a second hint. Her lips were soft on mine, and we made each other out of breath. Our eyes never landed on the dancers again that evening. </p><p> </p><p>Rose was bold. I liked that about her too. </p><p> </p><p>After that we were inseparable. We went to the club often, and we never watched the dances. She tried, twice or thrice, to take control, but always failed. She still had a long way to knowing me, with her petty little ego and her remaining ability to truly fall for love.</p><p> </p><p>Once I allowed her to straddle me, and it was one of the better sessions for her. </p><p> </p><p>I know because she was so overwhelmed that she called my Victor. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>I devoted myself to my great work of ascension more than I did before. I travelled to the distant seas and land, I fought watchers and soucouyants, I banished cold curses and storms. Through all the journeys, I left Rose behind at the Capital. </p><p> </p><p>Sometimes, when I return, I see Victor with her. I was not curious about what they were doing, because I knew. </p><p> </p><p>I felt betrayed, but I didn’t. Sometimes, I even pity her. </p><p> </p><p>Love is pathetic. Love gives way to everything, power, knowledge, sensation. And yet, Rose fell in love with not only one, but two.</p><p> </p><p>Soon I had all I needed. All. I had the never-exhausting chalice, I had the writhing, sticky caul. I also acquired something I didn’t quite need, the Watchman’s Glass, I got it through some unexpected means. It was quite a heavy and fragile object, but I kept it in my cellar. </p><p> </p><p>I was now a master of the invisible arts. I knew exactly how to arrange a show for myself, and my dear, beloved Rose.</p><p> </p><p>It was not the easiest route to take. I would have stepped into the Tricuspid Gate so much earlier if I hadn’t the need to search for the influence for the show.</p><p> </p><p>The Incarnadescence. It was everywhere, but nowhere. I went to the Club. I paid the dancers the prices I normally wouldn’t be willing to pay. I tried hard, but some things don’t come with effort. They come when they should.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, I found it in Rose. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe I was also the fool, the fool that believed in love. During the last time of our ecstasy, I felt something different from desire stir in me.</p><p> </p><p>All was too late now. I had walked thus far, and the show must go on.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
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<br/>
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</p><p>I stand in the middle of the circle, the circle of my loyal followers, my disciples, my worshippers.</p><p> </p><p>Rose, my worshipper. She worships me fondly and passionately. My words are her gospels, my actions her salvation. When I look at her, she dares and wants not to look at any other, not even her dear brother and lover. </p><p> </p><p>I smile at her, and I’m sure she knows the meaning of it.</p><p> </p><p>‘Rose. Do me an honour and come forward.’</p><p> </p><p>She does so without hesitation, loyalty and trust glowing in her eyes like a well-trained puppy. She thinks I’ll seal our so-called love, she thinks she made it to her ever-after.</p><p> </p><p>I really have trained her quite well. I am proud of my achievements. But, for some reason, the Rose on the day of our first encounter appears in my memory. Unkempt short hair, dominant personality, what she would be without me.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a tragedy for all of us.</p><p> </p><p>The Watchman’s Glass stands behind me, and now, me and her. It wants to reflect light, but there was no light to reflect. Not yet. </p><p> </p><p>The pure, filtered and concentrated light of enlightenment it will eventually glow in, I learned, would overpower our petty fleshly desires with ease and burn us to the ground.</p><p> </p><p>I have conquered sensation, unfortunately. Someone, however, some other person that my little Rose loves, someone hasn't.</p><p> </p><p>Someone will burn in the Light, someone will become ashes, someone will cease to exist.</p><p> </p><p>I smile even wider, and in the process, even more ominous. </p><p> </p><p>‘Victor. If you could do the same, come forward.’</p><p> </p><p>I see the flash of fear in Rose’s eyes, and I see the despair - or rather, lack of hope - in Victor’s.</p><p> </p><p>They both know what will very soon happen. I love this more than I love Rose.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>I chain him up, all by myself. The altar is sacred, and I do not want anything staining its purity. Although I find bodily pleasures more amusing, the Watchman and Knowledge override us all. I must keep His altar that I borrow clear of ashes of what doesn’t belong.</p><p> </p><p>In front of Rose and everyone, I strip him bare, and he tries to look away from me and his sister. </p><p> </p><p>He is indeed quite suited for this, and I can see why Rose would enjoy times with him. </p><p> </p><p>The Glass still stands behind us. </p><p> </p><p>Victor is not trembling, he has accepted this. He must’ve known this would happen since he realised I was dating his sister, but he still didn’t give up.</p><p> </p><p>He knows if he rebels too hard, I’d release him and chain Rose at his place. </p><p> </p><p>Love really is powerful, I think. Pathetic, but admittedly powerful.</p><p> </p><p>All things are in place. Odd patterns form on the brick pavement, and distantly, a staircase is forming. Rose is trying to run, but the Intercalate power pins her in place. </p><p> </p><p>I can faintly make out the shape of the Tricuspid Gate at the end of the staircase. The sky is a murky dark green, the Gate is gold.</p><p> </p><p>I take Rose’s hand, and she does not fight. I am her master and god, and she may not disobey, even with her lover chained up in despair. </p><p> </p><p>I lead her up the staircase. I walk slowly deliberately, so the pain has time to set in in her heart. </p><p> </p><p>Every step we take, our footprints glow in golden lights. The lights do not dissipate, they shine up to the sky. The lights pierce the clouds. </p><p> </p><p>We walk farther and farther, and the clouds become fainter and fainter. Eventually, at the Gate, there was no cloud, but no light as well.</p><p> </p><p>Rose looks at me, and, after realising the lack of expressions in me, looks back at Victor. Victor is not visible all the way up there.</p><p> </p><p>‘Are we stepping through?’ I ask her, teasingly. </p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t know how to answer, pleasure with me on one side and life of his brother on the other. She is putting serious thought into this.</p><p> </p><p>‘Rose,’ I kiss her lips shallowly, our skin barely touching, ‘I’m glad to see that you’re still you. You’re still the self confident person that believes this is up to you.’</p><p> </p><p>I release her hand, and step one foot in the bounds of the Gate.</p><p> </p><p>Pathetic Rose. She thinks I’ll give up ascension for her. She thinks I sacrificed Victor so I may own her.</p><p> </p><p>The Sun comes out in the cloudless sky, illuminating the midnight. I cannot see Victor, or the Watchman’s Glass, but I see the light, and I hear the scream.</p><p> </p><p>Not from Victor, but from his lover.</p><p><br/>
The Gate closes behind me.<br/>
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<br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Rose is Victor’s. I loved her, maybe, but I loved her pain more. </p><p> </p><p>I loved revenge, I loved tragedies, I loved control.</p><p> </p><p>And I myself, I gorged on the fruits of the sticky Grail. I will not grow old.</p><p> </p><p>Or lovestruck. Ever. </p><p> </p><p>I became more than Rose could ever be, for I do not love.</p>
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